A Different Sort of Balcony
by Belisma Nyoka
Summary: HPSS slash. Last thing Harry remembers about Snape is being failed in potions, so it's a given that he's a little confused when Snape tells him they've been together for years. The mediwizard claims most his memory will return. Everyone else is unsure
1. HARRY From Ground, Up

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter.

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**Chapter 1 – From Ground, Up (Harry)**

Harry was not quite sure how he ended up outside in the rain, wearing nothing but boxers, but that's where he found himself when he woke up.

Or, perhaps, he had already been awake; he was standing and he was on a trail that seemed to lead into a woods. That didn't help him understand why he was there to begin with. Nor where he was _nor_ why he didn't remember coming there at all.

He looked behind him. There was a house in the distance; a two-story building that seemed to have a lot of corners, nook and crannies. With the rain pouring down harder, Harry felt that heading toward the house was probably the best option.

A little after he started to feel the cold set into him, Harry saw a figure walking toward him and after a bit he realized it was Snape. Snape seemed to be in a hurry.

"What are you doing out here?" Snape yelled once he got close enough, his voice still muted because of the wind. Harry stopped and stared. "Come here," he said, wrapping Harry in a cloak and Harry stiffened when the professor put his arm around him and started to walk towards the house.

Inside was warmer than he expected and he allowed Snape to force him to sit on a couch in front of an almost-dead fire. A few minutes later, a cup was being forced into his hand, but he didn't drink it. He wasn't sure which question to ask first.

"What were you doing out there, Harry? And in nothing but shorts, no less."

Harry sat wondering the same thing as Snape sat on the couch and gave him a look that felt foreign.

"Are you going to tell me?" Snape asked, this time his voice sounding colder. Harry shrugged.

"I don't know," he admitted, figuring if he was going to get in trouble it might as well be because of the truth.

"You don't know if you're going to tell me?"

"No, I . . . I don't _know_. Why I was out there." Harry felt a burst of annoyance, but Harry bit his lower lip instead of raising his voice. He was at Snape's mercy, now, as he had no idea where anyone else was.

"Maybe you were sleepwalking again, although I thought I fixed that." Snape seemed to be talking to himself, so Harry stayed silent. He never remembered sleepwalking before, actually, much less having Snape help him with curing it.

Harry jumped when Snape brushed a hand against his cheek. Not sure what to make of it, he stilled. Less than a moment later, Snape's face was close to his and their lips brushed.

"Wha—" Harry sputtered, scrambling to get away and finding himself unable to back up any further with the high arm of the couch behind him.

"What's wrong?" Snape looked confused, a first for sure.

"I don't . . . where am I?"

Snape was on him in a second, but this time with his wand and hands, seemingly inspecting him. Harry sat still, not knowing what brought on this sudden change in demeanor.

"What do you remember?"

"I . . ." Harry paused, wondering what he should say. _If_ he should say anything at all. This was Snape, after all. Snape could have been the one who obliviated him and is pretending to help him to cover his tracks. "I graduated from Hogwarts a couple months ago. Got a job about a week ago, working for . . ." The look on Snape's face was something akin to fright.

"You think you're still working for the freelance company."

"Well . . . yeah. Wait," he pushed Snape away. "What do you mean _still_? I just got the job. And why am I here? Why don't I remember anything?"

"Why you don't remember anything, I don't know. It doesn't appear to be a memory charm." Snape sat back, arms crossed. "As to why you're here, you live here. With me. For the past three years."

Harry tried to wrap his head around that. He lived with Snape. And Snape almost . . .

"Are . . . we . . ." Harry didn't know if he could say it.

"Are we what?"

Harry had the feeling that Snape knew what he was going to ask but wanted him to say it. He wasn't sure why he knew it. If Snape thought he should say something he wasn't, he usually just yelled at him.

"We're dating," Harry stated before he looked around for anything unusual. _Anything_. An out-of-place animal, an alien . . . _something _that would indicate he was dreaming.

Everything looked normal, unfortunately.

How did _he_ end up dating _Snape?_ Last thing he remembered, Snape had failed him in Potions for absolutely no reason. He had been lucky he passed his NEWT with an acceptable with how Snape had been on his ass for his last year. It was that precise reason he couldn't become an auror.

Well, that, and maybe a couple of other reasons.

"I suppose you could call it that," Snape said, and Harry had the sudden urge to see himself. There were no mirrors in the room so he jumped up and ran for the doorway, finding a bathroom down the hall.

He looked like himself, Harry reasoned. Older, for sure. He actually had a beard growing in that looked more than fuzz and Harry felt a surge of happiness at that realization. The feeling quickly passed as he looked over the rest of himself. He was somewhat more muscular, but he was still short. Well, either that or Snape's bathroom was made for someone quite tall.

Snape came and stood in the doorway, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

"I don't get it," Harry said slowly. "I don't know what happened."

"We will find out," Snape said flatly as he walked towards him. "A lot has happened since when you remember."

"Obviously," he muttered and Snape sighed.

"Come to bed. I am too tired to focus and you are obviously not particularly sharp at the moment. We will handle this in the morning."

"I'm thinking _fine_," Harry argued at smooth insult to his intelligence, but from the tone of voice used, he didn't seem to mean anything bad by it. He also didn't seem to be joking, which came as a relief to Harry. He didn't know if he'd be able to handle a too-different Snape than he remembered.

Then it hit him.

"Do we . . . _share_ a bed?" he asked quietly, almost scared of the answer.

"Yes. But if you feel uncomfortable with that . . . there are plenty of other bedrooms made up for guests. You could sleep in one of those."

"I . . ." Harry felt genuinely guilty for not wanting to sleep in the same bed as Snape, but other than the fact that Snape seemed angry about any other arrangement, he couldn't put anything more than a feeling to it. "I should probably do that."

"For the rest of tonight, then," Snape said sharply. "And then we'll solve the problem in the morning."

Snape left, leaving Harry in the dimly lit bathroom with his unfamiliar reflection. After a few more minutes of exploration, Harry found himself a bed on the first floor to lie down on, but sleep didn't come easy.

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He woke with Snape sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at him. He managed not to startle, sitting up slowly.

"What do you remember?" Snape asked.

"That I can't remember what's happened for years," Harry answered after a few minutes.

"I did some research already, as you've decided to sleep in." Snape handed him a roll of parchment and after some hesitation, he unrolled the top bit. "I'm assuming you took – or were fed – a potion, or – more likely – you may have a condition brought forth by the sleepers hex from a few years ago."

"Sleepers hex?"

"A horrible spell that put you to sleep and stole dreams. We were able to neutralize it before any permanent damage was done. Or so we thought." Snape paused. "That was the reason I told you to quit your job. You had no business being in the sort of job with all of the dangers and none of the protections of other jobs."

"Oh," Harry said.

"_You_ are going to St. Mungos. If I am correct about the hex, then there may be nothing we can do . . ." Snape seemed to choke on his words, "but I want to be sure. "Get dressed and meet me downstairs."

"Ah . . ." Harry said. "Where . . . are my clothes?"

Without warning, Snape pulled him to his feet and pulled him along – although not at a fast pace; more like a gentle lead – to a bedroom, opening a wardrobe. "Those are all yours. Downstairs when you're ready.

He couldn't suppress the feeling that he was doing everything wrong as he picked a pair of jeans t-shirt to wear. Dressing, he looked around. The head of a decent sized bed was along the wall with the windows (lots of them that would let in a lot of light if the curtains were open, as he liked), another wardrobe was on the other size of the room, along with a bookshelf and a small desk, and other bookshelf was next to his wardrobe, albeit with much less book on the shelves. His side of the room was also in more disarray than the other – because, Harry decided, it had to be his side. The books were those that interested him, his firebolt was leaning against the nightstand, where the top drawer was open with a sketchbook and pencil box on top.

It was unsettling, he decided, to see a half room that was so much his next to a half room which was so much _not_. But it was proof that _somehow_ he and Snape were dating – or maybe something even more – even though Harry could never remember being interested in men that way. And, if Snape was right, he would never remember any of it.

Very confused, Harry backed out of the door and walked slowly down the stairs.

He and _Snape_.

Surprisingly, the idea of it didn't repulse him. Confused him, yes. Despite the proof, Harry didn't know if he could ever feel that way out Snape, and he wasn't so sure he wanted to try.

Much to Harry's dismay, they flooed to St. Mungos, after an apology from Snape, and they were led to a room right away, giving Harry the idea that Snape had called ahead of time.

"Do you want me to stay?" Severus whispered in his ear.

"I don't know," Harry replied honestly.

Snape did stay, which turned out to be a good thing. After all, it was Snape who had been there before, during most the parts Harry couldn't remember. It turned out that Snape had been correct about the sleeping hex. Harry listened to the mediwizard talk about how it was still possible for Harry to regain most of his memories but as there were no potions or spells that could reverse the damage – only stop the spread – he had to work hard and keep around the things he was supposed to remember.

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Harry followed behind Snape as they wandered through the house. It was extremely warm outside – a big difference from cold weather during the night – and in contrast, inside the house was comfortably cool.

Harry mentioned this.

"You charmed the house to keep a comfortable temperature when he had the house built," Snape answered.

"We built the house?"

"We had others build it, yes. None of the houses we looked at had enough windows, according to you. That's why we have several wings; you wanted a lot of natural light and this way none of the rooms could be without sun." Snape sounded somewhat irritated at the memory.

"It's kind of big . . ." Harry commented. He was sure he'd have preferred a somewhat smaller house. There were at least ten large rooms here, and several small ones that were used mostly for storage.

"That would be me. I like space. That, and I have collected a lot of things over the years." He paused. "It was somewhat a compromise, I suppose."

Harry nodded. Snape seemed so at _home_, and even Harry could admit that the place _felt_ like home now. But he couldn't remember ever living there. None of the rooms held anything for him.

Harry managed not to jump as Snape pulled on his shoulder, tugging him backwards, and he found himself with his back to the wall with Snape unnervingly close to him.

"You don't remember any of it, do you?" he asked, putting his hand on Harry check. Harry shook his head, unable to _not_ notice how much taller Snape felt like this. He only came up to Snape's chin. He might have looked older in the mirror, but he still _felt _like he was a teenager.

Still, Snape brought in his face close to Harry's and even as he had the urge to push him away, the closeness made him feel something he never remembered feeling before. Blushing – or perhaps he was flushed – Harry froze as Snape brushed fingers down his cheek before he kissed him.

A few seconds in, it was too much and he felt himself relaxing into Snape as the man kissed him harder, now pressing on his shoulders with his hands.

It was only after Snape had backed away did Harry realize he had kissed the man back and he wasn't sure what to make of that.

He kissed _Snape_ and he enjoyed it.

Snape began to lead him again and coming out of his wonderings, he found himself sitting on a bed. _Must be one of the spares_, Harry thought as Snape sat down next to him.

"Harry," he said, but seemingly lacking for any more words, Snape leaned in and kissed him again. This time wasn't as appealing as Snape had his hand on his leg, dangerously close to his inner thigh.

Harry stood up quickly and was halfway to the door before he stopped and turned around cautiously. Snape looked . . . well, not displeased, but more disappointed.

"You're not . . ." Snape paused and schooled his face. "I am sorry. I had thought . . . . I assumed too much."

Harry wanted to open his mouth and say no, that it was fine, but he couldn't think of a reason to do so. He _didn't_ want Snape touching him _there_. The kiss was alright; that he could handle right now, even if it was Snape, but to go any further than that . . .

What was he supposed to make of that? He supposed before, he must have done sex stuff with him, but he couldn't remember that.

Harry crossed his arms, feeling the need to reassure himself. The kiss felt right, but as he couldn't remember doing anything like that before, Snape was going to have to wait until he remembered for anything more. Anything more felt wrong.

Right?

Snape stood and walked past him before turning around in the doorway.

"I feel like making an early dinner, as we did not have lunch. I will make it this time. You can finish reviewing the house yourself."

He didn't want to admit it, but as Snape walked down the hall away from him, Harry felt horrible. Lacking the energy to wander around the house more – there was only one other wing left, besides – Harry went back to the room that Snape claimed was theirs and sat on the bed. He had energy for a nap, he decided.

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Snape sat across the table from him, avoiding his glances. The man had awakened him from his nap but hadn't said a word since. Harry felt compelled to start a conversation and he had the feeling that it was something he had done on many occasions.

"What do I do? For a job?" he finally asked.

"You're in between jobs at the moment. You had quit your last one a month ago and decided to wait to look for a new one until I go back to Hogwarts," Snape answered after a moment's silence. "Although I do believe Albus has plans on recruiting you as the new Defense professor soon. He's mentioned as much, at least."

"Oh," Harry answered. The idea was kind of appealing. He wasn't too happy about his seventh year ending, having to leave Hogwarts behind, and going back would be wonderful. Harry narrowed his eyes, wondering at Snape's strange tone. "Was I going to say yes?"

"Of course," Snape said. "And I would encourage you to even if you weren't." Harry gave Snape a questioning glance. "You may not believe me with your . . . _lack_ of memories, but I enjoy having you around. It is why we started to live together in the first place."

"How _did_ we come be together?" Harry blurted suddenly. Snape narrowed his eyes and sighed.

"Perhaps it's not best to talk about that yet, if you don't remember. It wasn't the most . . . pleasant of events."

Harry put down his spoon, feeling suspicious. "Were we forced?"

"What? No, Harry, we were _not_. It's more . . . we had a certain _need_ and together we were able to satisfy it. Some. Thankfully, that changed."

"Oh," Harry said again, trying to think of what could be so bad that Snape didn't want to talk about it. Had they been into painful sex? Even though Harry couldn't remember, he doubted he'd ever be into something like that. He had enough pain in his lifetime to never want more. And wasn't stuff like that normal for some people to want? He didn't see how it would be something Snape would avoid talking about.

Confused again, Harry dropped the topic. He would probably remember eventually anyway.

Harry chewed his food slowly as they ate in silence. The few times he looked up at Snape, Snape was refusing to look at him, which made him feel even worse, which in turn made him feel angry.

Snape shouldn't expect so much from him.

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The chair he had chosen, Harry decided, was the best chair ever.

The room, however, Harry wasn't so sure about. Sure it had a television – none of the shows on were familiar – but it was strange. The furniture was sort of strewn about, most of it sort of facing the center, and there was a _lot_ of it. All of it mismatched. He wasn't sure why that fact bothered him so much, but there was a green couch next to a purple chair next to a colorful yard chair . . .

He didn't think it possible Snape for like this room, either.

Glimpsing at the clock above the telly, he saw it was nearing midnight. He wondered briefly if Snape had gone to bed yet.

Snape, as if hearing Harry think about him, came up behind him.

"Are you coming to bed?" he asked. Hesitantly, Harry looked over his shoulder and opened his mouth. A few seconds later, he shut his mouth and nodded instead.

After all, it _was_ supposed to be his bed and even if Snape was in the bed, too . . . it was only sleeping, right?

Harry decided he must be a little too tired to willing sleep in the same bed as Snape, but he put the thought to the back of his head.

Snape didn't say anything, though, and he walked out of the room.

Harry stopped at the doorframe. It was very dimly lit with only one large candle burning on Snape's nightstand which made it that much more daunting. Snape came and met him standing a bit close for comfort.

"Harry," Snape said. "I understand you don't remember any of this. Of us." Snape stopped, looking completely like he didn't want to say what he was going to say. "And you probably won't understand it until you remember something – anything – but . . . I can't lose you." Snape breathed in deep. "Even if you never remember anything . . ."

He waited, but Snape never continued. Harry got the gist, though. If it turned out he never would remember, he wanted to start things over. He didn't answer, though, opting to lift his shoulders in a reluctant shrug.

Snape kissed him again, pulling him towards the bed. He let him, not really knowing why. He was too tired to argue, he supposed. Or maybe in his confusion he wanted to see if Snape was right about it all.

With Snape directing, Harry laid down on his side of the bed and he found Snape hovering above him, not quite laying on him but definitely not laying off him. A few kisses distracted him for a few minutes, but then Snape took his shirt off. It was too dark to see anything, but the thought made Harry uncomfortable. A few more kisses, then Harry realized Snape was unbuttoning his own – he had changed shirts after the appointment, finding the t-shirt itchy – but he didn't stop him.

When Snape started brushing his fingers up and down his chest, Harry started to squirm but then he started kissing him and Snape's hands stayed by his waist. He finally came down, laying on Harry instead of kneeling over him and Harry found he didn't mind it much.

Snape moved off of him, then, and Harry was mildly disappointed. And definitely more awake, now.

"Goodnight, Harry," he said, kissing him one last time before snuffing out the candle and climbing under the covers.

Harry found he couldn't sleep.

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Harry decided it must have been nearing time for Snape to wake up as the sun had long been above the horizon and was steadily rising in the sky.

During the night, he had too much on his mind to sleep – plus, because of Snape, he was partially aroused and couldn't get sex off his mind – so Harry had wandered the house more by candlelight instead of wand light, finding it much more calming. Eventually, he had found the room. He wasn't sure why it had been important he found it and he hadn't even realized he'd been looking until he had found it, but sitting in the window seat, legs close, he was reluctant to leave.

Harry had come there to think, but he hadn't been able to come to conclusions about anything and his stomach soon drove him to find his way back to the kitchen.

Snape was there, drinking something and flipping through pages of a book. Harry stood and watched him for awhile, feeling someone akin to happiness and soon Harry took a seat next to his ex-professor.

He could do this.

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A/N: This is my first Harry Potter fiction of the SS/HP nature (also, my first story where 'romance' could actually be considered a genre) so I feel sort of out of place, here. I have a few ideas for how it should continue, but I wanted to see if there was any interest in this story.

I could use a beta for this (and following) chapters. If you are interested, PM me with questions or whatever. I'm think I'm needing someone who has a good grasp of writing the more intimate scenes (nothing explicit in this story) as I think mine are choppy and also to help with consistency. And any other thing that could use improving. I haven't really planned anything, but it will probably end up being around the 50,000 word length. I'm making no promises, though.

Oh, and for those of you who are wondering, the title's meaning will come later in the story.


	2. SEVERUS Past Lives

**Disclaimer: Don't own. **

**A/N: Second chapter, from Severus' POV. Memories are included. Forewarning, some of the history between Severus and Harry is pretty dark. There's the "venting anger on each other" stage, which was in ****no way**** a sexual relationship, then the actual relationship. The flashbacks aren't in order chronologically, but I have them dated. If anyone wants me to post a timeline, let me know. **

**If I haven't mentioned it before, the main part of the story starts in August 2004. **

**I could still use a beta, so anyone who's interested, message me through the website. If no one volunteers by next chapter, I'll start looking for one.**

**The next chapter shouldn't take so long. Thank for the reviews!

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**Chapter 2 – Past Lives (Severus)**

He woke up but he wasn't exactly sure he had slept. To be truthful, he hadn't felt this horrible after a night's rest since the balcony, which didn't sit well with Severus at all.

The balcony might have been the event that finally brought them together, but it had been the worst day in Severus' life. What was happening now was nowhere near as bad as that day, he knew, and he found himself on his side, staring at the sleeping young man.

Harry was here, alive and not _hating_ him. That is really what mattered, because if Harry's feelings, along with his memories, were erased, Severus knew that Harry wouldn't let him _near_ him, let alone sleep in the same bed. Severus knew there wasn't much chance of the memories returning, no matter what the mediwizard said, which meant that if he was going to hold onto Harry, he would have to start new memories instead of trying to find the old.

And really, Severus realized, he didn't have one idea as to what an 18 year old Harry would want – because that is how old he was in his memories. He was more innocent then, despite the fight against the Dark Lord, and as if his reaction so far was any indication, rough sex was definitely not a good way to keep his trust.

What _was_ most teenagers' idea of a relationship? Dinners, he supposed, entertainment. Dinner was easy – Harry's favorite restaurant was in town – but the entertainment was a bit harder. Muggle movies always seemed to be an impersonal way to spend time with someone, even if it was what they mostly did when Harry's friends were at the house.

He was sure there was a strip club in town, as a way to get Harry on the subject of sex . . .

Severus shook his head. He wouldn't force him into anything but he also didn't want to divert his attention to someone else.

Perhaps he'd ask Harry what he would want to do after dinner.

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_**August, 1999**_

_"You would hardly qualify as someone I would want to spend precious time talking to, Potter," Severus answered, following the young man to their destination. He knew he should have chosen the place himself instead of letting Potter, because the hallway they were walking down was in much need of repair and he was sure the room itself was going to be, too. And, probably, that much more unsanitary. _

_ "You're talking to me now," Potter said flatly and Severus decided then and there that _he_ would control when they got together. He hated Potter's way of finding obscure places when Severus would just rather to get it over with quick. There were always plenty of places where no one would find them that were clean and weren't out of the way._

_ As Potter unlocked the door, Severus pushed him inside, angry that there was only Potter to do this with, yet glad it was Potter because it was _he_ who caused most of his anger._

_ Even now, when the brat was no longer at Hogwarts._

_ Severus pressed him up against the wall, hard, and he could tell the boy was in pain._

Good_, he thought._

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Lunch was quiet. He had insisted that Harry took the meal with him – he made enough for two, he had told him – but it was awkward, being at the table.

"Did you have any plans for this evening?" Severus asked him as Harry stood up to put his plate in the sink.

"No . . ." he answered. Severus was surprised he hadn't contacted any of his friends but didn't say so.

"Perhaps we could eat out, tonight. I was thinking High Below." Harry looked down at him with a blank look. "It's your favorite restaurant. You would always get food from there at least once a week, with or without me."

"Oh," he answered. "Like a . . . date?"

Severus sighed. He wasn't sure what to make of this Harry. When he had stumbled upon him a year after he had graduated, whatever it had been that made him so angry had already happened. Severus never asked him what had happen, but for the first time, he wondered if it had changed him too much.

"I suppose you could call it that," Severus answered slowly. "We usually go out to eat once in awhile."

"Wouldn't that be . . . strange?"

Severus stared at him, trying to determine what it was that made him so hesitant but he gave up. For as much as he understood about Harry right now . . .

"_What_ would be strange?"

"Well, that . . . we're going on a _date_. Wouldn't some people find that strange?"

That was probably the first time Severus realized that before he and Harry started their _relationship_, Harry might not have given thought to having a relationship with a man. After all, it wasn't as if they had started by dating or liking each other. The reason for the meetings had been pure hate the purpose had been to vent their anger.

Ignoring the sharp realization in his stomach, Severus stood and stepped close to Harry, relieved that he didn't back away. "They would have no reason to think it _is_ strange, Harry. We dine at the restaurants in town frequently. Neither of us particularly enjoys cooking, most the time."

"Oh." Harry didn't look up and Severus took one more step, not touching but he was close enough to make him uncomfortable if it wasn't what he wanted. Harry didn't move back.

"Dinner tonight."

Harry finally looked up. "I'm not dressing up," Harry said quickly. Severus nodded. At least that hadn't changed. Severus went to put his hands on his shoulders, but Harry stepped back. "Look, I . . . what do we usually do?"

"What?"

"What do we do? Do we talk or . . . or . . . do anything?"

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_**October, 2002**_

_ "What are you doing?"_

_ "Reading impossibly incompetent reports that never should have been assigned. What are you doing here?"  
"Impossibly incompetent? That sounds odd." Harry leaned against the desk, and looked down at him, grin on his face._

_ "What are you doing here?"_

_ "I was bored."_

_ "So you come here to pester me." Severus put down on his quill and put the stopper in the inkwell._

_ "Apparently I'm good for nothing else; you've told me that enough," he said flatly._

_ Severus sighed at his bringing Harry's mood down. He's had so few of them in the past year._

_ "You're good for a few more things than that," Severus said, resting his hand on Harry's leg._

_ "I heard there's a Halloween ball this year," he said, standing up and moving across the room._

_ "Nothing more than Flitwick decorating the Great Hall and putting up a few music charms. Same as the past two years."_

_ "They never had that when I went here."_

_ "Be grateful. It would have just been one more center of teenage drama and the entire school's atmosphere would have been in turmoil. It will take weeks before the students settle afterwards."_

_ "Your garden is overgrowing again. I took out a few weeds but . . ."_

_ "The garden will be fine. It will start snowing soon, anyway."_

_ Harry sat on the couch Severus brought into his office once Harry started visiting. It wasn't very often, and it was usually for more of a reason than he was bored. The young man always had something to do and the majority of the time, it didn't involve him._

_ "I don't know why you wanted such a big garden. It's bigger than the house and you only worked on it maybe three times after you planted it."_

_ Severus didn't see the point of answering. For someone who couldn't spend more than ten minutes pulling weeds, he wasn't expecting him to understand how being in the garden could be relaxing._

_ "I also tried putting some decorations up. I thought it would be nice, seeing as I have a house to decorate." Harry paused. "Being on a ladder putting things on the roof is sort of boring, too."_

_ "You were on a ladder? Why didn't you just use your wand?" Severus stood and stood behind the couch. _

_ "It seemed more traditional, I guess."_

_ "For someone who isn't capable of magic, perhaps. Your balance is horrible. You shouldn't be on ladders."_

_ "I'm fine," he said quickly. "I was getting headaches, though. Went to St. Mungos."_

_ "Harry." Severus forced Harry to look at him. "When was this?"_

_ "A couple days ago. Just some pressure again."_

_ "Why didn't you tell me?"_

_ "It was just a headache," Harry told him. "That's not why I'm here, though. I have a job starting in a few days. Some bloke claims he has an infestation of . . . something I've never heard of before. It's probably just harpies."_

_ "You really should quit that job."_

_ "And do what?"_

_ "Find a real job," Severus answered. _

_ Harry was opening the door before Severus could process he had stood. "Where are you going?"_

_ "Home, I guess." He didn't turn around._

_ "Harry."_

_ "What?"_

_ "Don't leave. You never visit." Severus stood behind the couch for a few moments before he realized Harry wasn't going to shut the door. It was a few moments more before he managed to pull himself and walk toward him. "You should stay here for a few days."_

_ "What's the point of us building a house if it's never used?" Harry asked but shut the door anyway. "You know, I like it better when you're home."_

_ "Well, I would never know that. You spent half the summer in the hotel because I annoyed you in some way or another."_

_ "Not that much," Harry said. "It was two weeks. Why do we always do this?"_

_ "What's this?" Severus asked, making sure the door was charmed locked._

_ "Fight. I mean, I know we don't exactly love each other, but . . . we like living together."_

_ "Which is why you're staying here for a couple of days."_

_ "Yeah," Harry said, sounding somewhat disappointed._

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Severus watched Harry as he looked around the restaurant. "_This_ is my favorite place to eat?"

"Yes." Severus looked around, too. "The food's good. And," Severus lowered his voice, "it has memories."

"Memories?" he asked and Severus could tell was trying to think of what those could be. It was true, though. There were memories here. Most of them horrible, but the few good ones were good enough that they built the house close to this town. That was Severus' reasoning. Harry never did tell him his. "This room looks like something could jump out at you at anytime. Don't they have lights?"

"They get turned on turning the day. They light the candles at night. It fits the _mood_."

"Which is . . ."

Severus gave Harry a smile, but from his look, it wasn't something he was expecting. "Dark. And you loved that." Not loved like he loved his friends. It was more . . . something he _craved_, Severus contemplated. Putting down his fork, he looked at Harry closely. "You acquired a dark sense of humor since I knew you."

"Since when? It's not that I don't believe you . . ." – Severus could tell he didn't – "but this doesn't feel like _me_."

Severus sighed, feeling like this was too much. "It's _years_, Harry. Things have happened that you've never told me, before and after any arrangement we've made."

"Right. I look older, I feel different but I don't know why. And you can't tell me." Harry's voice was flat

"There's a lot you've kept to yourself."

"I just wish I could remember," Harry answered after ten minutes of them eating, watching one of the older candles burn out. Severus kept quiet. "I think there's a lot that you _could_ tell me, if you wanted to. You know about _us_."

A few more bites, using the time to think, and Severus took in a deep breath.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

_**November 1998**_

_ Severus' walk was fast-paced as he moved to escape the crowd of people. The nearest door, unfortunately, wasn't much of an escape route, merely a balcony._

_ He thought it would be different, but everything turned out to be about Potter. The boy did poorly on his OWLs, and of course, _he_ got blamed. The brat had been distracted the entire year and sure, Severus didn't go out of his way to help him, but the boy wasn't interested. If he gave him a few more detentions than were completely necessary, they were for a good reason._

_ To be honest, seeing Potter for the first time since he left Hogwarts brought out more violent thoughts than he would have thought. He was surprised he managed to keep himself calm as Potter stood there, looking around as if plotting something. Insolent, as usual; paying no mind to those around trying to talk to him._

_ He had thought the ball would be different. Now, he had an Order of Merlin, and even if it wasn't first class it was still recognition. Severus wasn't looking for crowds of people to talk to, but more than three verbal commendations would have been nice. No, the praises went to Potter, who had done nothing more than been lucky at the correct time._

_ Severus had never been more pleased that Potter never became an auror. To imagine Potter as a dark wizard hunter was to imagine the entire wizard world under Dark power. One could be lucky only so many times and as an auror, he would have had no one looking out for him. _

_ Now, as Severus heard from Albus, Potter was working for a freelance agency. Or, rather, a company that disguises itself as a freelance agency; it was more of a temporary work placement company, as less than half of the earnings ever see past the owners. It was dangerous work, usually, and Severus found himself hoping – not for the first time – that Potter would be seriously injured during one of the jobs._

_ Not killed, of course. He rather hoped that he would get the chance to tell Potter what he thought of his haughty attitude._

_ Severus sat in one of the provided chairs, ignoring the few comings of young wizards and witches and accepting the admirations of those few who recognized him for who he was. He debated leaving, but he promised Albus he would stay for the duration. Apparently, someone Albus wanted him to meet was coming in an hour._

_ It was just his luck that, after half an hour of sitting and enjoying the peace, Potter would come through the doors and lean over the railing. It disgusted him even more that it was quite apparent the brat was drunk._

_ And not holding onto the drinks very well, at that._

_ Eventually, Potter slumped into one of the seats and Severus stood to leave, sick from the smell of alcohol brought to him by the wind._

_ "I hate you," he heard as he neared the door. Severus paused but opened the door. The ramblings of a drunk were never worth the time spent talking. "I hate you. It's all your fault. If you hadn't . . . if you hadn't . . . I wouldn'tda . . ."_

_ Severus closed the door, wondering if anyone knew Potter was out here. He glanced at the door, glad to realize there were no windows in the door. Of course there wouldn't be. The outside darkness would have ruined the feel of the décor._

_ "You would put all the blame of your actions on someone else, wouldn't you?" Severus drawled, interrupting whatever drivel was coming from the boy's mouth. He felt his anger coming back when Potter didn't respond and he took the few steps it was to the chair, looking down at him. He was slumped in the chair, eyes closed, but Severus didn't believe he was sleeping yet._

_ For the first time ever, Severus realized that he _did_ wish Potter dead. With this realization, he felt calm in his anger._

_ He wasn't sure why, but with his hand around Potter throat, he felt that much better. Potter's eyes opened when he realized he had trouble breathing but the boy's eyes didn't show fear. They didn't show much of anything._

_ Realizing what he was doing, Severus let go and left the balcony, feeling that much better, but hoping that Potter wouldn't say anything. Potter was drunk, and hopefully, he would assume it was a dream. Standing at the snack table, Severus debated going back and oblivating him, but when he turned around, he was faced with Albus and an equally old man._

_ Severus sighed._

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"So we _hate_ each other, still? We just . . . have sex, and that's it?"

"No," Severus answered. He didn't tell Potter everything, but he did summarize that their relationship started out as a way to let out their anger. Sex had nothing to do with the arrangement. "I'm not sure of your feelings on the matter, but . . . something made me realize that I no longer wanted to hurt you."

"But I still wanted to hurt you."

"No," Severus repeated. "This is why I didn't want to tell you. You wouldn't understand without your own memories."

Harry sat there, obviously contemplating what that meant. "But I'm not going to get those back, am I?"

"I suppose it's possible. I'm not a mediwizard." Severus paused. "Do you hate me?"

He wasn't sure why he asked. Severus was sure he wouldn't like the answer; this man had Potter's memories, not Harry's.

"No," Harry said after a bit. "I don't know _why_, because all I can remember is you being horrible to me . . . well, except for the least two days. But I don't hate you. I'm trying, too, but I don't _know_ you."

Severus nodded and was about to say he was willing to start over when a bell rang through the room. "That's the door," Severus explained when Harry looked panicked. "And you charmed it, so don't complain."

"That's so annoying," Harry replied, shaking his head.

"That's _why_ you charmed it." Severus stood and walked toward the door. "We had a small argument and you had friends coming later that day. You had done several other things to annoy me, but this is the only one that stuck. You decided it was convenient and made it permanent."

Harry followed him. "Permanent, as in . . ."

"I suppose it is possible to change the noise or even cancel the spell, but neither of us has tried."

Severus opened the door to find Albus Dumbledore reading a book on a transfigured chair. What probably used to be _his_ chair.

"I hope you plan on transfiguring the chair back," Severus said sharply.

"Ah, Severus." Albus stood, banished the book and transfigured the chair to its original form. "I wasn't expecting you so soon. It usually takes longer for someone to answer." Harry stepped out onto the porch, looking around. It wasn't his first time seeing it, so Severus was surprised Harry looked so confused. "Hello, Harry. How are the krumpnuggets fairing?"

"The what?" Harry asked, leaning against the railing. Instinctively, Severus pulled him away and then pulled his arm away. They were at ground level; falling over the railing wouldn't hurt him.

"Harry wouldn't remember," Severus explained quickly. "There seems to have been a side effect of the sleepers hex. He remembers nothing of the past six years. In any case, I've been watering them, and they are fine."

"It shouldn't be much longer and they'll emerge." Albus looked at Harry. "You were excited when Severus gave them to you."

"_What_ are they?" Harry asked again.

"Oh, you'll see," Albus said, walking into the house. Harry hesitated and Severus stayed back.

"What they were was supposed to be a surprise, anyway, but you found out on your own." Harry gave him a dubious look. "I'm sure Albus is here to offer you the defense position. Do you think you could handle it?"

"Yes!" Harry answered immediately. "I mean, yeah."

This time, Harry didn't hesitate entering the house.

"I'm sorry to hear about your memory, Harry," Albus said, sitting once he and Harry were seated. "It is something we can work around, I'm sure. New memories are always being made." He glanced at Severus. "I'm sure Severus here has already told you, but I am offering you a job as a professor in defense. It might be harder without the memories of recent experiences, but I'm sure you'll make do."

"I'd like that, sir," Harry answered and Albus chuckled. Severus supposed it was because Harry hadn't called Albus 'sir' in four years.

"No need for the formality, Harry. Call me Albus." Harry shrugged and Severus quelled the urge to roll his eyes. "I will owl you information, then. As you probably know, you are not required to be at Hogwarts until the opening feast – you may take the Hogwarts Express, if you wish – although you may instead come when Severus does, if that pleases you. Don't hesitate to ask me questions, either. I will hopefully supply enough of past lessons that you can determine what will need to be taught, but there have been several more professors since you have left, not all of them terribly organized. One professor managed to make it two and a half years, though, so I do not believe the curse is the reason."

"Oh," Harry answered, and Severus was sure he had forgotten about it.

"All of them had been incompetent fools who either hated children or were irresponsible the classroom. I'm surprised none of the students were _killed_," Severus explained to him. It didn't seem to help much, so Severus thought it might be that he was afraid he wouldn't work as a teacher. "You filled in for a few weeks and the children seemed to like you teaching. You'll do fine."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

_**January, 2003**_

_"I was thinking of starting this project with the fifth years, to help with OWLs, but Albus says he has someone starting in two weeks." Harry sounded forlorn._

_ "They won't last long. They never do. Perhaps after this one, I'll suggest you as the next replacement."_

_ "Thanks. Then who will be here to replace _me_ if I die halfway through the school year?"_

_ "You won't die. The curse has dissipated."_

_ "You don't know that."_

_ "But would you? Take the job if it was offered?" Severus asked. The week Harry had been there, Severus realized he liked having him there for longer than the few and far between visits._

_ "Of course. Why wouldn't I? I'm not afraid of any curse. I've had a few curse-breaker jobs, remember?"_

_ "For two of them you were in St. Mungos for a week." He finished writing the comments on the third year's paper before drying the ink and letting it roll up. _

_ "Well, sure, but I broke the curses, didn't I?"_

_ "The trick is to do it without getting hurt. You weren't properly trained for half those assignments they gave you."_

_ "Maybe, but I learned from my mistakes, didn't I?"_

_ Severus shook his head. He didn't want the conversation to continue in this direction. "You know my opinion on the matter."_

_ "We should go somewhere," Harry said, changing subjects and rearranging his legs so he was sitting on one in the chair._

_ "Perhaps the kitchen," Severus replied as he sat down next to him. "You haven't eaten all day, have you?"_

_ "No." Harry paused. "No, _yes_, I've eaten. But no to the kitchen." He paused again. "I mean, we should go somewhere. Abroad, maybe."_

_ "And you couldn't have suggested this two months ago?"_

_ "Well, I didn't think of it, _then_. This summer," Harry decided. "I'll take time off work."_

_ Severus quelled the urge to suggest he quit his 'job' – again – and pulled Harry's hand close to him. "I suppose we could do that. Any place in particular you have in mind?"_

_ "No . . ." Harry scooted closer and Severus smiled, knowing he was no longer thinking of holidays. "Can we go to our room?"_

_ "What's wrong with my office?" Severus asked, knowing Harry's answer. His thoughts usually ran along the traditional lines._

_ "Well, er . . . there's no bed."_

_ "Ah." Severus pulled Harry back down when he tried to stand, then forced him to sit back, Severus' lips close to his. "Maybe here is just fine," he stated. He saw Harry glance at the door. "Don't worry, Harry."_

_ Severus kissed him, but Harry pushed him away almost immediately._

_ "No. The bedroom. Please?"_

_ Severus sighed but stood and pulled Harry along with him. _


	3. HARRY Stagnant Rivers

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

**A/N: Beta'd by virus-of-blossoms. All remaining mistakes are my own.**

* * *

**Chapter 3 – Stagnant Rivers (Harry)**

"He seems fine." Harry stopped outside the room. He was sure no one else had come, so Harry wondered if Snape had made a call through the floo. "That is why I called." Harry peaked around the corner, into the room. Sure enough, Snape was on his knees in front of the fireplace. He couldn't hear who he was talking to, though. They were too quiet, so all he could make out were mumblings. "That might be good. Perhaps you could help him with his memories." _So_, Harry thought, _they _are_ talking about me. _"This evening, perhaps. I could bring in food for a late dinner... How many?"

Harry hung in the doorway, eyes narrow, as Snape finished the conversation. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when his ex-professor turned around, but a smile certainly wasn't it.

"Who was that?" Harry asked, not caring that his voice sounded accusing. They were talking about him, he had a right to know who it was.

"Hermione," Snape answered, and Harry decided it was strange to hear her first name coming from his mouth. "She hadn't heard from you this week and she was worried."

"Oh," Harry said, glancing at the floo. He _would_ like to talk to Hermione, And Ron. Get their opinion on the matter.

"She would have come through, but she wanted to find a babysitter as she and Weasley will be staying the night."

"A babysitter?" Harry asked weakly. "She has a …kid?"

"With Weasley, yes. They married three years ago." Harry found himself with his mouth open, staring at Snape, who seemed to have expected the reaction. "You're the godfather."

Harry nodded. He was glad he was still close with Ron and Hermione.

"Is anyone else . . . married?" Harry asked hesitantly and he wondered if he and _Snape _were married. They had a _house_ together . . .

"Probably. I don't tend to keep notes on your friends. You can ask them when they arrive."

Harry took a few steps into the room and after a second, Snape pointed at a seat. He sat and the man followed suit across from him.

"_We're_ not married, are we?" he asked. Snape closed his eyes and shook his head.

"No. We were talking about in a year, though . . . before."

"What?"

"We had discussed the matter previously," Snape responded slowly, "that if we still thought it was a good idea, we would bond in a year." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "I had also suggested adoption."

Harry stared at him, waiting for him to continue, but he never did. _Adopt_? He wondered. He didn't think he was against adopting a kid – actually, helping an orphan sounded like something he'd want to do, but . . . "I don't think I want a kid right now," Harry said. Snape nodded.

"That's what you've said before. You said to wait a year or two before I mention the subject again."  
Harry nodded and Snape was giving him a strange look. He was surprised when the man stood and sat down next to him. "Harry, I . . ."

Harry thought he knew what Snape wanted and the thought made his jeans a bit tighter than they had been a minute prior.

_Could_ he kiss Snape? Before, he didn't mind it, really. And even if it was Snape, the idea was sort of appealing.

Before Harry could make up his mind, Snape brought his face close and before he realized what he was doing, Harry leaned up and kissed him.

A short kiss, because he thought it felt awkward with how they were sitting, but Snape didn't seem to mind. Quite the opposite, actually, as Snape stayed close and looked pleased. With a sudden flash of irritation, Harry pushed him back.

"What's _that_ for?"

"What?" Snape asked.

"That _look_!"

Snape leaned back in, but not too close. "I'm simply happy that you would feel comfortable enough to kiss me." Harry narrowed his eyes. He _seemed_ honest enough, but then, Snape was always a good liar, wasn't he? _Besides_, Harry thought to himself, _he doesn't _sound _like Snape. Even before he was saying things like 'simply happy'_.

When he realized he was no longer in the mood to even think about kissing, Harry stood up and walked toward the door.

At the stairs – one of the three in the house – he stopped, not sure where he should go. The last few days, he had slept with Snape because . . . well, he wasn't sure. He didn't feel as if he had a reason to _not _to, though.

He was still debating what he should do when Snape walked up behind him.

"Perhaps we should talk more," he said, and Harry turned around to sit on the stairs.

"What about?"

"Anything."

"You just don't want . . ." _Don't want what?_ Harry wondered. It was on the edge of his tongue, but he couldn't remember what it was he was going to say. It felt so _common_, though, as if he had said it a million times already.

"We always fight, Harry," Snape sighed. "And it always ends the same. I just don't want to lose you."

Unwillingly, Harry barked out a laugh. "Do you realize how odd that sounds coming from you? I don't even remember _being _with you. Do you know the last thing I _do_ remember? It was the last day of term, when we were packing for the trip home and I remembered I had left my cauldron in the potions classroom, so I was going to get it. You wouldn't let me take it, saying that I should never be allowed around a cauldron as I was too incompetent, or . . ."

Harry stopped short when it was clear Snape wasn't taking it well. Again, he wasn't sure why he knew, because Snape's face hadn't changed, nor did it look as if he was going to yell.

"You need proof," Snape said flatly. "Proof that we do more than live in the same house."

"I don't know. I just wish I could_ remember_."

Harry stayed sitting as Snape stared at him. He tried to match the man's stare, but it grew uncomfortable, so instead, he pulled up his socks for something to do.

"This may not be the best course of action." Instead of telling him what, Snape took his hand, pulled him standing and then lead him up the stairs. They found themselves outside one of the rooms that Snape had claimed as one of his private rooms. "Albus sent me his pensieve yesterday."

Angry, Harry pulled his hand away. "Why didn't you tell me _yesterday?_"

"Because he advised me to use it only if we _have_ to. If you are to recover your own memories, he thought it would be better to remember them as you originally did, not from an outside source."

"Then why did he send it?"

"Because I asked him to. Is there any memory you would prefer to see?"

"No," Harry answered after a minute. "You . . . you said some things aren't good, so I guess I don't want to see that."

Snape looked at the pensieve setting on the table in the middle of the room, then back at Harry. "One memory. If you feel you need to see more, I will show you, but Albus might be right. If your memories _are_ to return, seeing too many might confuse everything."

Harry nodded. It made sense. The more he thought about it, he supposed there were flashes. Not of memories, really, but of feelings of how things should be. He thought of telling Snape his idea, but stopped. He wanted to see a memory, first, so he nodded.

It was a few more minutes before Snape brought his wand to his temple and dragged out a silvery memory.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

_**July, 2000**_

_"What happened?"_ Harry stood next to Snape – the non-memory Snape – and watched as the memory Snape talked to someone at the desk in St. Mungos.

_"He fell off a balcony," Snape answered. "Lost his balance, I believe."_

_The person at the desk nodded, but Snape wasn't looking. Instead, he was watching where they were taking memory-Harry._

_"They'll take care of him, sir," the lady said. "But since you're here, I think it's best to get the information now. Saves time later."_

Harry wanted to laugh at the expression on memory-Snape's face. He looked at Snape, but he wasn't near laughing and that calmed him a bit.

He wondered how far into their relationship this was.

And, since when was he clumsy enough to fall off of a _balcony_? Harry kept his mouth closed, though, wanting to know what happened.

_"Go on," Snape said._

_"You said this was Harry Potter, correct? Address please?"_

Snape listed off an address – one Harry wasn't familiar with – and Harry looked around. They were in an area for non-magical accidents, it seemed.

_"That isn't the address on record. Last time he was here—"_

_"He moved in with me recently."_ Harry looked closely at memory-Snape, and then back at the real Snape. Something in his voice wasn't right.

"I didn't know where you lived, so I lied," Snape told him. "They didn't need to know."

"So this was before we were living together?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

_"Okay, then . . . hmm. Everything else is current, though? It says here that he was last here two weeks ago."_

_"I suppose it should be," Snape answered and the lady nodded. _

_"Well, we won't worry about it, then. You can sit, if you want. They'll let you know what's wrong soon."_

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Harry sat on the balcony, looking at the woods. It was the woods he had been close to when he first started remembering, again.

The memory Snape had showed him didn't tell him much. It was one that he wouldn't be able to remember, anyway, because he had been unconscious at the time. It was something, he supposed, but not much. Too many things still didn't add up.

"Harry?" he heard Hermione call from the out in the hall. He stood and opened the door. She looked confused. "What are you doing out there?" she asked, but then shook her head. "Never mind. Severus explained how you can't remember anything recently, so I brought Karissa. Your goddaughter."

Harry looked down the hall in the direction of the stairs.

"Look, we'll talk tonight, alright? About all of it. Karissa doesn't know you've lost your memories, though, so it might be best to just play along now. She's only two and there would be too much to explain." Feeling quite out of his league – he couldn't remember ever having to talk to a two year old before – Harry nodded. "Well, go on downstairs. I need to go to the bathroom."

As Hermione disappeared down the hall, he managed to convince himself to take the trek downstairs.

". . . up the tree," he heard a small voice say.

"Oh? Did the squirrel come down again?"

"Nu-uh," the voice said. Harry walked to the door and looked around the doorframe into the room, trying to stay out of sight. Talking to a two year old seemed out of place for him, but to Harry, it seemed unimaginable to see _Snape _with a kid.

The girl – Karissa – was on Snape's lap, and he was holding a book in front of her.

"What kind of squirrel was it?" he asked gently.

"That one."

"Do you know the name?" The girl shook her head. "It's a red squirrel."

"That's not red," Karissa said laughing.

"It's a squirrel red," Snape said.

Harry watched for a minute longer, impressed. Opposite of how Snape had been at Hogwarts, he was patient with Karissa and actually seemed to enjoy teaching her. And she seemed just as happy to be in his lap.

Harry thought back to earlier, when Snape had told him he had suggested they adopt and now he saw why.

Debating not going into the room, Harry took a step back, but was only pushed forward by Hermione. He conjured up a glare.

"Get in there. I can't stay much longer if I'm going to be back in time for dinner."

When Karissa saw him, she jumped up and ran to him, hugging his leg. Harry stood there, not knowing what to do; he looked to Hermione for help, but she was only smiling at him.

"Hi," he said, expecting her to say hi back. Instead, she went off on a ramble – or what seemed like one, anyway – but Harry didn't understand one word of it.

"Uh huh," he said once she finally stopped and looked up at him. He ran fingers through his hair and tried to smile.

"Come along, Karissa, it's time to go to Julie's. Remember her? You'll be spending the night."

Five minutes later, Hermione and her daughter were out of the house, and Harry could only sit on the stairs, feeling lost and empty. So many things just weren't _right_.

Snape moved to stand in front of him and he looked up.

"You became better with children a couple months after Karissa was born," Snape told him quietly. He paused, but Harry didn't answer. He really wasn't in any sort of mood to talk. "I will order food from Ashley's and pick up a few things we need. I will be back in an hour." His ex-professor paused again. "Unless you wish to come with?"

Harry shook his head, stood while turning on the stairs and went to his room without another word.

It was only about five minutes of lying on the bed before he decided taking a nap wasn't what he wanted to do. The air blowing into the window made him realize how much he wanted to be outside and he thought of the balcony a few doors down.

The sun was setting already, and Harry wondered where the day went. Lots of sitting around trying to remember, he supposed. He knew Dumbledore should be sending defense information soon . . .

Harry shook his head, suddenly weary of meeting up with his friends. He supposed Ron and Hermione would come tonight, but whom else? _Do I have other friends I don't know about?_ He wondered, leaning against the railing and finding himself dizzy from looking down.

Stepping back, Harry thought he saw movement near the woods and he narrowed his eyes, trying to see what it was. He wondered what animals lived near here. Wherever _here_ was, exactly.

He never did ask what the name of the town was.

Looking over the edge once more, Harry made up his mind. He had time, so he would go into the woods. Perhaps he would think of something to do there.

His mind wandered to the garden, briefly. Snape had spent a good amount of time there the past few days and it still needed considerable work. One counter of the kitchen was piled with vegetables, fruits and herbs to be frozen, used or sold. Quite honestly, the kitchen and garden work held no appeal, so he kept to his decision of going to the woods.

Back in his room, Harry threw open his wardrobe and opened the drawer on the bottom to find shoes that would keep his feet dry. The first two pairs were useless – perhaps he was keeping them for an emergency, but he was surprised they could be considered wearable. The next pair was a dress pair and finally, a pair of boots. They didn't look worn, but since they were on the bottom, he realized he probably didn't have much use for them.

Odd, since they looked more comfortable than the pair he had been wearing.

Happy that something was going his way, Harry sat and pulled on the first boot to feel an uncomfortable pressure on his toes. Pulling the shoe off, he reached inside and pulled out a small key.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

_**October, 2000**_

_Harry stood outside the apartment door, box in hand. Hermione had given it to him, its purpose doubling as a get well gift and an apology. Not that she had anything to apologize for. He was never truly mad at her._

_It took a few moments before Harry was able to find the door key in his pockets, as both were filled with loose money, charmed paperclips and Snape's mail he had picked up. Snape seemed to only come to the apartment once a month to pay for rent, but lately, there had been important-looking envelops that Harry had been forwarding to him at Hogwarts. He hadn't heard anything back from Snape, though, so he was beginning to suspect the he could stop._

_Inside, Harry sat on the sofa he had slept on until two weeks ago. Snape only had one bed, but the man wasn't there to use it, so Harry decided he could until Snape came back. The couch was uncomfortable, even with cushioning charms, so the bed, although squeaky, was a welcome comfort._

_Harry wasn't sure if Snape was going let him stay when he came back, but as of now, he didn't have much place to go. Because he had been recovering, he had been overdue with rent and although the landlady understood – mostly – he decided it was best to just pick up his few belongings and stay at Snape's. _

_It was Snape's fault, anyway._

_And he wasn't sure why, but he was looking forward to the next time Snape came to pay his rent, because last time he came into the apartment, he found it was nice not to be alone all the time._

_The clock's bell rung. One o'clock. Still early enough to go to the office and tell them he was ready for another job, but another job didn't exactly fill him with excitement. Instead, he pulled the post from his pocket and thumbed through the envelops. More than usual – usually, Snape only got a few letters a week instead of six in one day – but nothing looked terribly important._

_He stood to put them in the breadbox he had been keeping the mail in. Snape had an extra one for some odd reason._

_"Potter," Snape said suddenly, and Harry turned around, wand out instinctively._

_"What are you doing here?"_

_"Where is today's post?"_

_Harry pointed at the box and glared. "You came all the way here for _mail_?"_

_Snape didn't answer so Harry stormed from the kitchen and was heading for the bedroom when he realized Snape might ask too many questions, so, instead, he let himself fall onto the sofa and crossed his arms._

_It didn't matter, it seemed, because Snape left the flat with a slam of the door._

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Harry sat on the fallen, damp tree, fingering the key. He knew it was to a box Hermione have given him, but he wasn't sure what was in it or where it was. Or why it felt so important.

He thought back to the day in the apartment. Of all the things he could remember, it was something that didn't seem to mean anything. Snape hadn't seemed to want him around, if he was remembering it correctly.

Although it was getting dark, Harry didn't feel like going inside. His friends would be here by now, he assumed, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to see them – or meet them, if he didn't remember them. He _remembered_ something, and he wanted to remember more.

_Anything_.

It soon got too dark to see properly and Harry stumbled his way back to the house with no more old memories than before. Inside, it seemed more lights were lit than usual.

Hearing voices from down the hall, Harry went to the room with mismatched chairs to find Ron and Hermione talking, Ron obviously about to turn on the telly.

"Harry! We were wondering where you had gone!" Hermione said, standing. "Severus is in the kitchen. The food has been here awhile, but we decided to wait. Where were you?"

"I just needed to think," Harry told her.

"There would be a lot to think about, mate. Remember anything, yet?"

Harry briefly glared at him before shaking his head. One memory wasn't much to go on and it wasn't anything he wanted to share with his friends.

Maybe with Snape, though, and that feeling confused him a little.

"Let's go eat," Ron said and Hermione rolled her eyes before they walked to the kitchen. Snape wasn't there.

"Maybe he went upstairs," Hermione said as Ron prodded at the food. She turned to Harry. "Did you want to go find him?"

Harry nodded hesitantly as Hermione started searching the cupboards and he sighed as he headed toward the nearest stairs. Maybe it was a good thing.

He found Snape in their bedroom, searching for something and Harry watched him for a minute, even though he was sure Snape knew he was there.

"How long did I live at your flat before we started to . . . you know . . . _like_ each other?"

Snape looked up at him, a questioning look on his face. "I am not sure. Is there a reason for this particular question?"

"Well, I sort of remember something. Not much, but I was living in your flat, and you came back from Hogwarts for your mail. I don't . . . think you wanted me there. Did you just let me live there because I got hurt?"

"That wasn't the only reason," he answered, standing and walking toward Harry with something in his hand. "But at first, it might have been. I don't know."

"How do you not know why you let me live in your home?"

Snape didn't answer at first. He sort of looked like he wanted to hex him, like he had sometimes during his potions classes.

"I don't usually sit and ponder how my emotions effect my actions on a daily basis, Harry," Snape said in a tight voice. "Perhaps I felt bad, perhaps I was beginning to like you. At that point in our lives, it's hard to tell. Do you remember how _you_ felt?"

Harry froze stunned. Did he? "I don't know," Harry finally answered and at Snape's _knowing_ smile, Harry couldn't help but feel cheated. Harry didn't have all those memories, so of course he wasn't going to remember how he felt. Snape, on the other hand, _did_.

"What's that?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Drawings. You gave them to me for the lack of a birthday present when you first learned when mine was." Taking the loosely bound book, Harry flipped through a few of the drawings. There were decent. Most of them of nothing specific, but the scenes were recognizable. "You became a better artist since then."

"_I_ drew these?"

"Of course."

"I can't draw," Harry said shaking his head.

"No, you weren't able to at first," Snape laughed and Harry had to pause at that.

"Right." Handing the book back, Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Ron's probably eaten half the food by now."

"I brought home enough food for half a week. I hope he hasn't."

Still, Snape set the book on the bed and they hurried downstairs to find Hermione setting the table and Ron already piling food on his plate.

Some things, he supposed, were never meant to change.


End file.
